[There is clutter in the dusty, relative coolness of the building; shot through with rays of starkly bright sun from the landscape outside, framed out in doorways and windows, Slevin picks his way carefully through, comfortable moving in the dark and the forgotten, abandoned places like he wasn't standing out in the open and the sun. He is safest from his warden in places like this. He can breathe easier amongst the decay.
He's paused to check his rifle in a thin streak of dirty sunlight, ever wary of where Cassel is in relation to him, when the warden speaks and he shakes his head, mouth set in a grim line.]
Don't. A bullet would've been quick and clean. God knows what'll happen to you now.
[It isn't real regret in his voice, but a stinging, acidic kind of bitterness. He's just slid the magazine back in, the snap of metal on metal masking Cassel's light step so that he isn't quite aware that he's ended up within range. He certainly never expected him to touch him, anyway.
No, that's wrong: he did. He knew he would. The only surprise is that it's not skin on skin, that he feels the pressure through the stiff fabric of his t-shirt, and his muscles go panic-taut underneath that.
He swallows and turns, eyes flashing white in the darkness, his grip on the gun too tight to be useful at all.]
Spam
He's paused to check his rifle in a thin streak of dirty sunlight, ever wary of where Cassel is in relation to him, when the warden speaks and he shakes his head, mouth set in a grim line.]
Don't. A bullet would've been quick and clean. God knows what'll happen to you now.
[It isn't real regret in his voice, but a stinging, acidic kind of bitterness. He's just slid the magazine back in, the snap of metal on metal masking Cassel's light step so that he isn't quite aware that he's ended up within range. He certainly never expected him to touch him, anyway.
No, that's wrong: he did. He knew he would. The only surprise is that it's not skin on skin, that he feels the pressure through the stiff fabric of his t-shirt, and his muscles go panic-taut underneath that.
He swallows and turns, eyes flashing white in the darkness, his grip on the gun too tight to be useful at all.]